


to give the sea

by ominousunflower



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Adrinette, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - No Miraculous, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Happy Ending, Kwamis as Cats, Light Angst, Magic, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Selkies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29512608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ominousunflower/pseuds/ominousunflower
Summary: As spring turns to summer, Marinette has two strange encounters in her seaside town. One of them is with a herd of seals that appears one day without an explanation; the other is with Adrien Agreste.The more she gets to know Adrien, the more she wonders about the strange sadness in his heart—and why the sea seems to hold some sort of answer, if only she could understand what it’s trying to say.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 20
Kudos: 101





	to give the sea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trashcatontherooftop](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcatontherooftop/gifts).



> Written as a gift for my awesome pal Tcat! I hope you enjoy it :) 
> 
> Note: In this fic, the characters live in an unspecified seaside town instead of Paris, so I changed up the architecture of the Dupain-Cheng house a bit. It didn’t feel right for them to live in the same bakery, lol. 
> 
> And two more things! 1) Marinette and Adrien are around 17 at the beginning of this story--it's the May of Marinette's penultimate year of high school. 2) To clear up any confusion: Adrien is implied to be nonbinary in this fic, but he's comfortable using binary pronouns. (See endnotes for an additional note about that.)

Back pressed to the rocky bank, Marinette drags her pencil across the page of her sketchbook, tracing slopes from head to tail. When she’d climbed down to the beach to draw, she hadn’t expected to find a herd of seals basking in the springtime evening sun—but as soon as she’d spotted them, she’d instantly begun sketching, determined to capture their forms on paper before evening extinguished the scene. 

Their seaside town isn’t known for its wildlife. Songbirds roost on windowsills in the mornings, seagulls cry by the sand, stray cats skulk around the alleys, and that’s about it. Marinette has never heard of their beach being a haven for seals.

This part of the beach is a cove shielded by tall cliffs and piles of rocks, so it seems that no one else has noticed the seals yet. That’s just as well; while Marinette doesn’t know much about animals, she figures the seals would probably prefer to be left alone.

As she outlines the shape of another seal, pebbles shower the ground to her left, pattering almost like rain. A figure slides down the bank a moment later and lands in a crouch, blond hair gleaming in the honey light.

Marinette yelps in surprise and crab-walks backward, sketchbook clutched to her chest. The person turns, a wince etched on their face as they clutch their hand. “Sorry!” they say, their voice soft. “I didn’t mean to startle you! That wasn’t my best landing.”

“You’re—” Marinette cuts herself off, afraid that she’ll attract the paparazzi simply by speaking the person’s name too loudly. In a whisper, she finishes, “Adrien Agreste?”

The person hesitates, and Marinette shakes her head. That’s absurd, of course—there’s no reason for a famous model to be sneaking around the cove. Besides, she’s not entirely sure whether the person she’s talking to is a boy or girl; there’s a softness to their features, a sweetness to their voice, that makes them hard to place.

“Never mind,” she says. “You’re not—I mean—”

“I’m not pretty enough?”

“No!” Marinette says, jumping to her feet. She nearly trips on her bag. “No, I mean—you’re…”

Belatedly, she realizes that the person has an eyebrow raised, their lips stretched in a smile. “I’m kidding. And again, sorry for scaring you. I was trying to sneak down here to see the seals, but I didn’t realize the bank was that steep.”

“You know the seals?” Marinette blurts out, stupidly. She still has the feeling that she’s _seen_ this person before—but if they’re not someone famous, then she has no idea why they look so familiar.

“I’m not sure I know them personally.” The person holds out their hand, and Marinette stares at it in confusion. “You were right, by the way. I’m Adrien. But, um…maybe don’t mention to anyone that you saw me here?”

Marinette keeps staring at the outstretched hand, stunned. She’s never really met someone famous before—but the hand seems so normal and _real,_ down to the raw scrape on Adrien’s palm. The meeting feels surreal, somehow.

“Sorry,” Adrien says, withdrawing the hand. “Is my hand bleeding? It’s been stinging a little since I fell, so—”

“No, no,” Marinette says. “I, um…it’s kind of weird to run into a celebrity here, I guess? Also, I thought you were a girl at first, so, uh—”

“Oh,” Adrien says, sounding strangely unoffended. “I mean, I’m not sure I’m anything, to be honest, but…you can use male pronouns? That’s what I’m used to, and I don’t mind them.” He rubs the back of his neck. “Sorry again for interrupting your…drawing?”

“Right,” Marinette says, still clutching the sketchbook to her chest. “I was, uh—you know—the seals…”

“Did you ask their permission first?” Adrien jokes.

Marinette snorts. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to sell their likenesses or anything.”

“Good.” Adrien winks at her, and Marinette finds herself giggling. “And, well…I was going to try to get a closer look at them, but I wouldn’t want to interrupt your drawing.”

“I don’t think the seals want to be disturbed,” Marinette says. Adrien’s brow furrows, and she hastily adds, “I’m not telling you what to do! I’m just saying, I mean—it’s probably not a good idea to get that close to wildlife?”

“You’re probably right,” Adrien says. “I guess I’ll just look from afar.” He glances at the herd, eyes narrowed, then turns back to Marinette. “Sorry, I’m being rude. I never got your name.”

“Girl,” Marinette says, sticking out a hand. “I mean, um, my name is she—Marinette—um—”

“Marinette,” Adrien repeats, gently taking her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“So…” Marinette follows his gaze back to the seals, which are still splayed across the rocks. “You like animals?”

“Hm?” Adrien slowly turns back to her, as if it’s hard for him to tear his eyes away from the scene. “Sure, animals are great. Why do you ask?”

Marinette points at the seals. “You must be pretty interested in the seals, if you slid down that bank to see them.”

“Oh, right. Animals.” Adrien laughs, and the sound flutters against Marinette’s skin like a breeze. She can see why the magazines all call him enchanting; there’s something warm and compelling about his presence, as if his lips are always on the cusp of a kiss. “I guess it’s obvious what my favorite animal is, then.”

“Seals?”

Adrien sticks out his tongue. “Cats, actually. Seals feel too much like people to me.”

“Like…people?” Marinette swings to face the herd. Of course, she’d sketched their bodies almost the way she might draw a reclining nude figure, but…

The longer she stares at the seals—not as subjects of a drawing, but as living creatures—she can almost feel what Adrien is saying. Despite the clear, orange-streaked sky, a presence hovers over the shore like pending rain. The possibility of something, a sense of _more,_ some question being asked that Marinette can’t quite hear.

“I sound crazy, don’t I?” Adrien says, interrupting the strange feeling. “Sorry. I don’t get out much.”

“Really?” Marinette asks. “I thought you were always doing promotions and red carpet events.”

“Unfortunately, you don’t find many normal teenagers at those,” Adrien says. “Not that I’m calling you ordinary! You seem interesting, Marinette. And you have good taste in sketching subjects.”

“Are you _sure_ cats are your favorite animal?” Marinette teases.

“Yes,” Adrien says. “Anyway, I should get going before my bodyguard runs out of excuses for why we’re running so late. Maybe I’ll run into you again.”

“I’ll be here!” Marinette announces, then slaps her forehead. “I mean, here in the town. Not here on the beach. I don’t live on the beach.”

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” Adrien says. “It’s near the water, at least.”

“You like swimming?” Marinette asks. “Or do you just pose in the water wearing a swimsuit?”

Adrien laughs again, and the way the sound brushes Marinette’s skin feels like a hint—a word she can’t remember, a face with no name attached to it. “I’ve mostly done the posing part, but I’d like to go swimming sometime. Maybe if I can sneak away from my father long enough.” Frowning, he scans the beach. “Is there an easy way to get back on top of the bank? I could climb, but…”

Marinette jerks a thumb over her shoulder. “There’s a path back there that’s not as steep.”

“Thanks.” Adrien slips past Marinette, then walks backwards so that he’s still facing her. “Enjoy the seals! And don’t steal anything from them.”

“I already told you, I won’t sell their likenesses!”

Adrien’s parting laugh rides the air like a gull, and Marinette wishes she had a recording of his voice; it’s sweeter than any lullaby she’s ever heard. “I believe you.” With a final wave, Adrien says, “Bye, Marinette. I hope I see you around.”

Marinette watches as he retreats down the shore, his form shrinking with each step. The air somehow seems a bit darker with him gone—but then, some time has passed since they started talking. It’s probably just the sun setting.

How long _had_ they talked? Sunset still stains the sky, so it can’t have been that long. And yet, something about their conversation suspended time; it’s as if they could have stood in that spot for hours or years, and the warm glow of sunset would have remained, the tides never retreating, the seals watching them silently from their stones.

Marinette shakes her head and begins to pack up her sketchbook. All that, just because of a conversation with a pretty stranger about seals? She really needs to stop staying up until three in the morning working on her designs.

As Marinette follows Adrien’s path back to the top of the bank, she can’t help but search for his footprints. To her surprise, they’re already distorted and half-obscured, as if the wind is trying to sweep away his presence.

Frowning, Marinette turns to the herd of seals—and when they stare back, she gets the strangest feeling that they’re searching for his footprints as well.

* * *

Marinette sighs, dragging her fingers across Tikki’s soft belly. Her cat is much better-behaved than the human children Marinette babysits sometimes—but being a cat, even Tikki succumbs to the urge to chase yarn on occasion, which is why Marinette just spent the last fifteen minutes cleaning up the tangled mess of string she’d found in her room.

And how could she scold Tikki, when the cat looks at her with such innocent blue eyes? Besides, it’s not like Tikki would understand why she’s being told off.

“Or would you?” Marinette asks, scratching Tikki’s chin. “Do you understand me, Tikki?”

Tikki meows and flops over, eyes half-open as her purr rumbles in the air.

Marinette rolls her eyes. “I’ll take that as a no.”

She still can’t stop thinking about her strange run-in with Adrien Agreste the day before. He’d seemed kind and approachable, which fits what she’s heard about him—the fashion magazines always rave about his sweet disposition. At the same time, there had been something thoroughly strange about their meeting. Marinette knows she couldn’t have imagined it, but the whole thing almost feels like something she dreamed.

And the seals. Adrien’s observation about the seals being close to human…as silly as it was, she hasn’t been able to forget it.

Tikki nips Marinette’s fingers, and Marinette gives her one final pat on the head before withdrawing her hand. “I should have showed him some pictures of you,” Marinette says. “He said he likes cats, after all.”

But she’s not thinking about cats. She’s still thinking about the seals.

There wasn’t anything overtly strange about them. It wasn’t as if they were bright purple or had bat wings sprouting from their backs. And yet, Adrien’s words as he spoke about the seals were almost _seductive._ They cast an eerie net across the beach, and in the reddening light of sunset, the creatures basking on the shore nearly felt otherworldly.

No, that’s absurd. Clearly Marinette just has her head stuck in the clouds again. She should channel some of that creativity into designs, rather than inventing silly stories about pinnipeds.

Even as that thought passes through her mind, Marinette finds herself grabbing the camera bag from her desk. She loops it over her shoulder along with her purse, pats Tikki on the head—nearly tripping over the cat as she winds around Marinette’s legs—and runs out the door.

Tikki follows her into the living room, then trots toward her cat bed when it’s clear that she isn’t getting any treats. Marinette’s father is asleep on the couch, taking one of his evening naps, which means her mother must still be downstairs in the bakery.

Marinette makes her way downstairs and pops her head into the doorway of the bakery. Her mother hands a paper bag to a customer, then turns to Marinette. “Heading out?”

“To the beach,” Marinette says. “There’s a good spot for sketching there.”

“That’s fine,” Sabine says. “Will you be back in time for dinner?”

“Yep.” Marinette darts forward and kisses her mother on the cheek, then backtracks and exits the building through the door at the foot of the stairs.

Ocean air greets her lungs, somehow more potent than usual, and the golden glow of evening creeps across the rooftops like vines, its crisp shadows foretelling sunset. Marinette fumbles her camera out of her bag to snap a few pictures of the buildings across the street, and then she loops the camera around her neck and starts the half-mile walk to the shore.

She tells herself that she’s not going specifically for the seals. The beach is gorgeous at this time of day, especially with how the sunlight hits the water and creates sharp textures on the land. That’s what Marinette is interested in—not the possibility of seeing the herd, or of running into Adrien again.

Moving carefully, Marinette climbs down to the secluded cove, careful not to step wrong and twist her ankles. As she rounds the bend and spies the stones where the seals were basking the day before, she freezes.

The seals are there. So is Adrien.

He’s sitting on one of the slick stones, his legs dangling over the edge, feet submerged in the water. A few of the seals are gathered nearby, though they don’t seem bothered by his presence; they’re flopped on their sides in a way that reminds Marinette of Tikki, almost as if they’re waiting for his attention.

Adrien’s hair practically glitters in the light as he turns to face Marinette. His lips form an _oh,_ and he scrambles to his feet. To Marinette’s surprise, his sudden movements don’t disturb the seals—they simply watch with round eyes as he picks his way through the crowd toward Marinette, stopping to grab his shoes and socks from the shore as he does.

Marinette’s tempted to scold him—because he really _shouldn’t_ be that close to the animals, no matter how fascinating he finds them. He could just take pictures from a distance, like she’s planning to do.

And yet, there’s a force like gravity tugging Marinette toward the herd. It dissipates as Adrien approaches—or maybe it just redirects, latching onto him because he’s closer.

“I already know what you’re going to say,” Adrien says, holding up his hands in surrender. “But they didn’t really mind, so…”

“Did they tell you that?” Marinette asks, hands on her hips.

“I mean…” Adrien laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “I guess not. Anyway, it’s nice to see you again. You came to take pictures?”

“Not of you!” Marinette says. “Of the beach. And the seals, since they’re here.”

“Alas,” Adrien says. “I guess I’m kind of a cliché subject, aren’t I?”

Marinette’s cheeks heat. “That’s not it,” she says. “You’re pretty—I mean, I’m sure I could take some pretty pictures of you, but—don’t you get your picture taken enough?”

“Maybe,” Adrien says, smiling. “But I have a feeling having you as my photographer would be different.”

His words send butterflies fluttering through Marinette’s veins, and she clutches the camera to ground herself. “Do you always flirt with single people on the beach?”

“No!” Adrien waves his free hand. “No, I—I wasn’t flirting. I’m sorry. I guess I do come across that way, sometimes.” It could just be the evening light, but his cheeks seem pinker than before. “I’m really sorry, Marinette. I didn’t mean to overstep—”

“You’re fine!” Marinette says. “I was teasing.”

Adrien lowers his hands, shoulders relaxing. “Right. I just meant…you wouldn’t be taking my photo for an advertisement or something. I wouldn’t feel like I need to pose or look a certain way.”

Marinette can’t imagine Adrien feeling the need to look _better_ or _more_. She thinks he’s gorgeous without makeup or expensive clothes—here with his jeans rolled up to his calves, clutching a pair of tangerine sneakers with socks balled-up inside them, his hair a bit tangled and frizzy from the ocean breeze. But of course, when he poses for advertisements, he’s selling a product—and in a way, he’s selling a bit of himself, every time his face appears on a billboard or in a magazine.

If that’s the case, no wonder he’d prefer to be photographed by someone like Marinette.

“I’m being weird again, aren’t I,” Adrien says.

“What?” Marinette asks, her mind catching up with the conversation. “No, not at all! Um, do you want me to take your picture?”

Adrien ducks his head. “You don’t have to. But you have my permission, as long as you don’t post them online. I don’t want to get in trouble with my father for sneaking off.”

“Of course not!” Marinette says. “I mean, I came to see if the seals were here, mostly…”

“Yeah?” Adrien asks, lifting his face to smile at her. His gaze gleams like the sun sparkling on waves, and Marinette couldn’t tear her eyes away if she tried. “They’re pretty special. You probably shouldn’t get too close, though.”

Marinette raises an eyebrow at him.

Adrien drags a hand down his face. “Right, I guess I’m kind of a hypocrite. Anyway, I think it’s okay for you to take pictures of them.”

“Should I ask their permission first?” Marinette teases.

“I can put in a good word for you, if you want.”

“You’re a seal whisperer now, huh?”

“Something like that,” Adrien says, waving a hand. “As long as I’m here with you, they probably won’t get mad.”

Marinette laughs. She’s not sure she completely understands Adrien’s sense of humor, but his presence is warm and reassuring, so she doesn’t mind his company.

Besides, there’s something eerie about the herd of seals. Of course, Marinette’s guessing it’s all in her head—like the time she stayed up late reading scary stories online, and couldn’t pass dark doorways without running. Still, having another person with her helps soothe the feeling of unease.

“But don’t let me interrupt your photography,” Adrien adds. He gives a little bow. “I’ll stay out of your way, my lady.”

“You’d better,” Marinette says, flipping one of her pigtails. “I don’t want you photobombing my pictures.”

Adrien smirks. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep my hideous face out of your photographs.”

“Sure. Hideous.” Marinette rolls her eyes as she turns on her camera. “So…do you usually just wade into herds of wild animals?”

“Ah…” Adrien crouches to set down his shoes, then remains squatting. “Not really. The seals are an exception.” He grabs a stick and starts tracing it through the sand, rendering the shape of a feline. “I _wish_ I could just walk up to cats and make friends with them, but they always run away. I guess I make them uneasy.”

“Some stray and feral cats are like that.” Marinette fiddles with the settings on her camera, then lifts the viewfinder to her eye and aims it at the seals. “I wouldn’t take it personally.”

“It’s all cats,” Adrien says. “One time we were staying at this hotel with a cat, and the owner swore she loved everyone…but she wouldn’t let me anywhere near her! I couldn’t even take a picture that wasn’t blurry.”

“No!” Marinette says, as she snaps a photo. “But you said you love cats.”

“I know,” Adrien moans. “I’m cursed. Forever loving creatures that will never love me back.”

“I bet Tikki wouldn’t be like that,” Marinette says. She frowns at her photo, which came out a bit darker than she wanted. “That’s my cat. She’s a sweetheart. I can’t imagine her—”

“You have a cat?” Adrien asks, jumping to his feet. “Do you have, um…”

“Pictures?” Marinette laughs and fishes her phone from her pocket, then pulls up a picture of Tikki lying on her back, feet stuck up in the air. “Here.”

Adrien’s eyes widen. “Oh my god, she’s adorable. Give her extra pets from me?”

“I will.” Marinette pockets her phone and lifts her camera again, slightly adjusting the aperture. She realizes that Adrien still hasn’t really answered her question about him and the seals, but maybe he just doesn’t have a good answer. “So…did you get in trouble yesterday for sneaking off?”

“No, fortunately,” Adrien says. “My father was busy with work, so he didn’t even notice that I was late.” He stretches his arms above his head, then treads across the sand to where the water laps at the shore. “Am I in your way if I just wade around here for a while?”

“Nope,” Marinette says. “But I can’t promise I won’t take your picture, if you do something photogenic.”

Adrien flashes her a grin. “Noted.”

As Marinette snaps a few more pictures of the seals, she can’t help but glance at Adrien—his calves splashing through the water, hair practically glowing like fire in the evening light. His fingers occasionally skim the surface of the waves, and it reminds her of the way a musician might play their instrument: careful, precise, with a reverent tenderness in their touch.

Marinette can’t bring herself to photograph him like that, as enchanting as it is. The moment somehow feels too intimate.

After taking several photos from one angle, Marinette moves closer to Adrien to try another. He’s bent over, rolling his jeans up to the knee.

“Are you going out further?” Marinette asks.

“Just a bit,” Adrien says. “I’m not planning to go for a swim.”

“Be careful,” Marinette says. “You said you haven’t been in the ocean before, didn’t you?”

“Actually…” The water sloshes around Adrien’s legs as he steps deeper into the water. “I was, when I was a baby. I don’t remember it, but I know I was with my mother. That was before she met my father.” He turns to the seals again, and his hand curls into a fist, as if there’s something he’s trying to grasp.

Slowly, Adrien’s words sink in. “Before she…met him?”

A grimace flickers across Adrien’s face, like the glimmer of a koi darting through a pond. “I didn’t mean to let that slip, but…technically he’s my stepfather, I guess. Not that it matters, since I can’t remember a time he wasn’t my father.” He clears his throat. “Um, keep that to yourself?”

“You can trust me!” Marinette assures him.

“Yeah, I get the feeling I can.” Adrien’s shoulders droop with a sigh. “Since then, no, I haven’t been in the ocean.”

There’s such a heavy wistfulness to his voice. It’s not like he’s saying he’d like to visit a foreign country, or meet an idol, or try skydiving—it’s more like Adrien is talking about a lost lover or friend. Someone he’s missed for years, and hasn’t been able to see.

Belatedly, Marinette remembers that the magazines only ever talk about Adrien and his father. His mother doesn’t seem to be in the picture…and maybe the ocean reminds him of her, which would explain why he seems so nostalgic.

“I’m sure you’ll get to go eventually!” Marinette says. “Maybe on a boat, at least, if swimming seems too dangerous.”

Adrien scoffs. “I can swim, you know. I don’t need a boat to go in the ocean.”

Marinette fakes a gasp. “A seal whisperer _and_ an Olympic medalist in the making? Do you have any other hidden talents?”

“Photography, actually,” Adrien says. “But that’s more of a hobby.” He slips his hands into his pockets and stares out at the ocean. “I’d like to try underwater photography sometime, but…like I said, my father doesn’t like the ocean much.”

“Is he…” Marinette gropes for words. “Afraid of it?”

Adrien lets out a harsh laugh, cold like the depths of the sea. “He thinks it stole something from him. Really, it was the other way around.” He scowls, and the darkness in his features is unsettling. “Some people have a hard time letting go of things.”

Marinette can only wince in response. Even though she doesn’t understand what Adrien is talking about, it’s clearly painful. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry.” Adrien sighs. “It’s a…point of contention between my father and me, but I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s not your problem.”

“I wish I could help,” Marinette says. It doesn’t matter that she and Adrien are still strangers to one another—Marinette hates seeing anyone in pain. “It, um—it seems like it really bothers you, is all.”

“Yeah,” Adrien mutters. “Uh, just ignore me. You’re still taking photos, right?”

Marinette nods and slowly lifts her camera. How can she focus, when Adrien’s pain is so palpable? His sadness feels like a part of the landscape, as much as the ocean crests and horizon line—except Marinette can’t photograph it, or hear it, or see what it is. She can only feel it, like the seals’ strange presence, something nameless that resonates in her chest. 

“I’m sorry,” Adrien says again, after a few moments of silence. “I didn’t mean to ruin the mood.”

“No, you’re fine!” Marinette says. “But…the mood is a bit weird, isn’t it? Something about the, um…” She inches closer to him, lowering her voice to a murmur. “Honestly, it’s the seals. I’m probably crazy! Maybe I’m just overthinking what you said before. Um, never mind.”

Adrien kicks one of his feet through the water, sending sparkling droplets through the air. “You’re not crazy. Those aren’t normal seals.”

Marinette squints at Adrien, waiting for him to finish the joke. “Normal?”

Adrien shrugs. “You said it yourself. There’s something special about them.”

 _Special_ wasn’t exactly the word Marinette was thinking, but she’s not about to insult Adrien’s seals. “Well, I’m glad I’m not the only one who noticed,” she says. “Anyway…”

“Right,” Adrien says. “I should probably get going, before my father notices I’m gone again.”

As he turns toward the shore, he lurches slightly—and before Marinette can even take a step forward, Adrien tumbles forward onto his hands in the water.

“Oh,” Adrien says, grimacing as he stands. He grabs the hem of his t-shirt and halfheartedly wrings it out. “Someone’s definitely going to notice that.”

Marinette presses a hand to her mouth. “Oh, no. I can—um—do you want…” She glances down at her own shirt and pants, then quickly dismisses the possibility; she and Adrien are completely different sizes, not to mention that his father will probably notice that he’s wearing a stranger’s clothes. “I might have something in my closet…?”

Sighing, Adrien wades out of the water. “I appreciate it, but it looks like I’m stuck. I’ll just have to hope no one notices.”

“That doesn’t seem fair,” Marinette blurts out.

“What doesn’t?”

“Um…” Marinette nervously tugs on one of her pigtails. “Nothing. Just…you seem to like the ocean, so…it’s not fair that you could get into trouble for going to the beach.”

“Oh.” Adrien’s shoulders fall. “Yeah.”

“I mean, not to criticize your father!” Marinette says. “I get why he’d be worried about the danger, but, um…” She trails off as Adrien shakes his head. “Is that…not it?”

“Never mind.” Adrien’s lips stretch into a smile, but the brightness feels artificial—like a fluorescent light glowing in place of the sun. “Sorry to bother you, Marinette. Anyway, I should get going now. Maybe I can slip into my room without anyone noticing.”

Marinette reaches toward him, fingers curling uselessly. What can she do, really? Pat him on the shoulder? Shake his hand? Brush the droplets of water off his cheek?

Her face flushes at the last thought; that’s far too intimate. 

“I don’t know if I’ll see you around,” Adrien says, lips twisted in a frown. “My father will probably keep a closer eye on me, if he finds out that I sneaked away. Um…”

“I could give you my number!” Marinette says. “I mean, um, can I give you my number? I swear I won’t leak yours. Or ask for any favors! I don’t really care that you’re famous. I mean, I care about fashion, and you’re in the industry, but that’s not why I’m interested in you.” She groans. “And now that I’ve said that, you probably think it _is_ the reason, but—”

“Whoa, whoa,” Adrien says, waving his hands. “I don’t think that, Marinette. But I didn’t realize you were into fashion. If you want—”

“No!” Marinette makes an X with her arms. “I want to be your friend, not a…favor-digger.”

Adrien’s laugh makes another blush heat her cheeks. “Don’t friends do favors for each other?”

“Fine,” Marinette says, arms crossed. “As my favor, I want your number. How’s that?”

“Ooh,” Adrien says. “You got me. Well-played.” He makes a _gimme_ gesture with his hand, and Marinette opens her contacts list and hands her phone to him. Tongue sticking out slightly, Adrien types in his number, then presses it into Marinette’s hand. Their fingers brush for a moment, and a spark ripples across Marinette’s skin. “There you go. Just text me and I’ll add your number to my contacts.”

“Sure,” Marinette says.

“Or don’t,” Adrien adds. “If you change your mind, that’s fine. I know there are stories about celebrities taking advantage of their fame, and if you’re uncomfortable—”

“I’m not,” Marinette says. She’s a fairly good judge of character, and she can’t imagine Adrien doing anything like that. And even if she’s somehow wrong—well, would Adrien really risk crossing Marinette, when she knows a few of his secrets?

“Okay,” Adrien says, with a small smile. “Great. Uh, so, feel free to text me…cat photos, or whatever.” He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “Sorry in advance if I’m awkward or anything. I don’t really have many friends.”

His eyes flick away, as if he’s ashamed of the admission—so Marinette uses her brightest tone when she replies, “You don’t have to worry about that. If you haven’t noticed, I’m not always that smooth, either.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” Adrien says. “Honestly, you seem pretty cool. You haven’t made fun of me for saying weird things, you haven’t tried to sniff my hair, and you didn’t leak my position to the paparazzi. That puts you way ahead of most of the people I meet.”

It sounds like a lonely life—not that Marinette ever thought fame seemed glamorous. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I guess some people are really awful.”

“Yeah, humans…” Adrien shrugs. “I guess it’s not just people, though. There are bad members of every species, right?”

“Even cats?”

“No,” Adrien says, lifting his chin. “Cats are perfect. They’re the exception.” Sighing, he picks at the damp denim of his jeans. “Anyway, I should go now. I’ll…talk to you later?” 

He says it like a question—something he’s not quite certain of, despite Marinette offering to give him her phone number. Does he really doubt her that much? Or is he not used to people keeping their promises?

Smiling, Marinette gives him a thumbs-up. “Absolutely! Actually, hold on.” She opens up her messages, types in Adrien’s name, and sends him a photo of Tikki.

One of Adrien’s sneakers vibrates, and he bends over to retrieve his phone from beneath one of the balled-up socks. He makes a cooing sound when he opens the message. “She’s the cutest,” he says. “Maybe I can meet her sometime. She’ll probably hate me, but…”

“She won’t!” Marinette says. “In fact, if you can get away from your house long enough, I’ll introduce you two sometime. I’m sure she’ll love you.” She pockets her phone again. “I should probably let you go, though. I don’t want you to get in any more trouble.”

“Thanks.” Adrien tugs on his socks, then crams his feet back into the shoes and sloppily laces them up. “It was good seeing you, Marinette.”

The way he says her name that last time feels different—almost like his voice carries a blessing. It brushes her skin like an embrace, warms her face like she’s sitting near a bonfire, stirs against her ears like a whispered secret. Then the feeling disappears as quickly as it arrives, and Marinette wonders if she’s just imagined it.

Marinette quickly pulls herself from her thoughts, but Adrien is already gone. She’s alone with the seals and the sea, and the beach feels empty and colder without him.

Waves slosh against the shore, and Marinette hesitantly lifts her camera toward the herd of seals. It focuses and unfocuses, and the seals stare back at her with dark eyes.

A mournful cold scrapes across her skin, and she immediately lowers the camera and turns it off.

Without Adrien, she feels like she’s lost their permission. Like she’s intruding, somehow.

_Humans…_

Wasn’t that strange, how Adrien said that?

Maybe it was nothing.

Shaking her head, Marinette turns and makes her way back up to the path above. When the seals are out of her sight, she pauses to look back at the water—and there’s something wistful about the way the waves approach the shore, like a child hesitating to ask their parent for something.

“Don’t be silly,” Marinette mutters to herself, and then she begins the walk home.

* * *

“I’m impressed by your climbing skills,” Marinette says, as Adrien follows her into the living room. Her parents are downstairs cleaning up the bakery, where she’d briefly introduced them to Adrien before taking him upstairs.

“Oh, well…” Adrien chuckles, glancing around the room. “I’m surprised that our security system didn’t detect me sneaking out.” He runs his hand across the soft back of their couch. “This is nice.”

“The sofa?”

“The whole place,” Adrien says. “It’s cozy.”

“Probably not as lavish as your mansion,” Marinette says. She scans the room for Tikki, and when she doesn’t see her anywhere, she clicks her tongue. “Tikki! I have a new friend for you!”

“Don’t be surprised if she doesn’t like me,” Adrien says. “And sure, our place is lavish, but it’s lonely. We don’t even have any neighbors.”

They definitely don’t; the mansion sits alone on a hill, elevated above the whole town, its walls and gardens visible from everywhere. It overlooks the town like a perched bird of prey—quiet and still, watching and waiting, until the Agrestes occasionally swoop down to the town before retreating again.

“At least the view is nice, right?” Marinette tries, as she and Adrien walk back to her room. “I bet you can see everything from up there.”

Adrien sighs. “Yeah. Including the ocean. I can see it all the time, but I can’t reach it.” His nose wrinkles, and he follows Marinette down the hallway. “It’s not a big deal. You’re right—the view is great.”

Marinette feels the urge to reassure him somehow—but what can she really do, to make that sort of loneliness go away? She can’t give Adrien the sea, or any of the other things he’s missing.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I wish I could keep you company more often. I mean, not in a weird way, just—I’m sorry it’s so lonely for you.”

“Whoa,” Adrien says, walking through the bedroom doorway. “Your room is great, Marinette.” His eyes land on the mannequin in the corner of the room. “Oh! Is that a design you’re working on?”

Marinette frowns at the white floral dress hanging on her mannequin, next to her L-shaped desk covered with sewing supplies. “Yeah. Um, one of them!”

“Sorry.” Adrien’s hands dig into his pockets. “I don’t mean to be so negative. I’m just glad I get to hang out with you! So, uh, video games, right?”

“Right!” Marinette says. “And, uh, I’m sure that design seems pretty drab, compared to what you’re used to seeing, but—”

“Not at all!” Adrien says. “I can tell you’re talented just from looking at it. Honestly, I’d much rather wear that than the boring stuff my father makes.”

“Would you…want me to make you something?”

“What?” Adrien’s eyes widen, and for a moment, Marinette worries that she’s somehow insulted him. “Wouldn’t that be a lot of trouble?”

“No, no,” Marinette says. “I mean, depending on what you ask for, it could take me a while to make, but I’d be happy to! What’s the point of being a designer if no one besides me ever wears my clothes?”

“Well, I’d be happy to wear something made by you.” Adrien grips his chin in thought. “Maybe a scarf or something? I don’t want it to be too labor-intensive. And I can pay you, of c—”

“No, you won’t,” Marinette says, wagging a finger at him. “The scarf can be a gift. Do you have a favorite color?”

“Blue,” Adrien says. “But you can make it whatever—”

“Blue is good,” Marinette says. “And you don’t need to feel bad! I like making gifts for people.”

Especially for Adrien, who seems like he could use a reminder that someone cares about him. Almost every word from his mouth convinces Marinette more and more that he’s lonely—and that he lost something or someone, once, even if he won’t say what it is.

His mother, maybe. Adrien hasn’t said anything about her since that day at the beach, despite the fact that he and Marinette have texted a good deal since then. The memory of her seemed to be a source of sadness for Adrien, and that’s certainly not the sort of pain Marinette can mend.

“Alright,” Adrien says, glancing away. “Oh! Is Tikki in here, or…”

Marinette points to the cat tower between her bed and the window, where a fluffy spotted tabby is curled up, her eyes cracked open as she stares at Adrien.

Adrien’s mouth forms a small _oh,_ and he clasps his hands as he stares at Tikki. “She’s so cute,” he whispers.

Marinette laughs. “You’ve seen pictures of her before.” She carefully crosses the carpet—hastily cleared for Adrien’s visit, with most of her things shoved under the bed or into the closet—and scratches Tikki’s head. “Do you want to say hi?”

“Me?” Adrien asks. “Oh, uh, no. She’ll just hiss at me. I’ll stay over here.”

“She won’t hiss!” Marinette says. “Come on! Um, only if you want.”

Hesitantly, Adrien creeps over to Tikki’s tower. She lifts her head and jerks it back slightly, her tail flicking in agitation—which surprises Marinette, since Tikki usually takes kindly to strangers. Still, Tikki doesn’t hiss or jump down.

Adrien shakes his head. “I won’t try to pet her.”

“She’s not hissing,” Marinette offers.

“Good point,” Adrien says. “But I’ll just let her sleep. Enjoy your nap, Tikki.”

Slowly, Tikki’s eyes shut again, though her tail keeps twitching back and forth.

“Maybe she just needs a few minutes to warm up to you,” Marinette says. “Anyway! Video games.”

Adrien proves to be a formidable video game opponent, and their evening of gaming ends with an almost-tie between them—Marinette only wins by one round, which is the closest she’s come to losing in a long time. By the time they’re done playing, the sky outside is dark, and the scent of a hearty stew wafts from the kitchen. 

“That smells good,” Adrien says, standing and stretching his arms above his head. “I’d better get going.”

“You could stay for dinner,” Marinette says.

“I appreciate it, but I already ate.” Adrien covers his mouth as his jaw stretches in a yawn. “Maybe another time?”

“Definitely.” Marinette hesitates, then adds, “Is it safe for you to walk home alone? Are you sure you can climb back into your room?”

“I’ll be fine,” Adrien says, waving a hand. “Besides, no one will be looking for me until bedtime. I can take my time getting back inside.”

“Right.” Marinette still can’t quite grasp that Adrien had to sneak out of his house just to spend time with a friend—but then again, it lines up with everything else he’s said about his home. “Um, did you want to go down to the beach, before you head home? I can tell my parents to put my dinner in the fridge.”

She hasn’t forgotten what he said earlier, about how his mansion’s view of the ocean taunts him. And she also knows that a certain sadness settles into Adrien’s features when he looks at the water—he’s said that he likes it, but Marinette hates to think of him going home and staring out his window at the ocean all by himself.

Adrien’s eyes widen slightly. “I don’t want to keep you from your dinner—”

“Let’s go,” Marinette says. She reaches down for his hand, then stops, her fingers hovering near his wrist. “Is it alright if I touch you?”

“Hm?” Adrien glances down at their hands. “Oh, I don’t mind. Um, are you sure it’s okay if we—”

“I’m sure.” Before leaving, Marinette darts over and kisses Tikki’s head. The cat lets out a sleepy chirp and then tucks her nose under her paw, purring audibly. “Come on.”

“Bye Tikki,” Adrien whispers, as Marinette grabs his wrist and tugs him out the door.

Outside, the air is warm and clear, the smell of flowers from the garden sprinkling the air. Adrien’s fingers brush the leaves of a rose bush as Marinette guides him to the sidewalk, and he murmurs, “Pretty.”

The sun has gone down, leaving the street lit by amber streetlights and the moon. Marinette and Adrien’s footsteps are the only sound as they make their way to the beach, and there’s something intimate about the moment: it’s just them, and the evening, and the water, temporarily isolated from the rest of the world.

When they reach the cliffside overlooking the water, they carefully pick their way down the uneven path from the grass to the sand. At one point, Marinette trips and almost falls—but Adrien’s hand tightens on hers, and he steadies her before she can tumble down the pathway.

Adrien gives her hand another squeeze, his palm warm. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yes,” Marinette says, her face hot. “Thanks for the save.”

“Of course.” Adrien smiles softly. “I’ll do my best not to let you fall.”

Marinette’s heart stutters in her chest, and the intensity of Adrien’s gaze causes her to look away. “Same!” she manages. “But, um, I guess I’m more likely to make you fall, aren’t I?”

“Well.” Marinette doesn’t need to see Adrien’s face to know that he’s wearing a mischievous smile. “If I did, I’m sure I wouldn’t be the first person to fall for you.”

“Very funny,” Marinette says, grateful that the night hides her blush.

Adrien hums to himself, and then he takes the lead as they make their way down the path.

As usual, this part of the beach is devoid of people—and this time, the seals are gone as well. They’d moved on a few weeks ago, a couple days after Adrien and Marinette met a second time. Now it’s only the water with rocks peeking out of it, and the sand with shells scattered among the grains.

“Maybe another group of seals will come along,” Marinette says, as Adrien frowns at the water.

“Maybe,” he says.

A soft breeze brushes Marinette’s skin as she and Adrien walk toward the shore. Adrien eyes the stones jutting out of the water—the same spot he’d once sat with the seals—and Marinette decides that the current isn’t strong enough to make it dangerous. She tugs on his hand, and the two of them make their way over to the stones.

Adrien sits down and quickly removes his shoes, then lowers his feet into the water. He closes his eyes and tilts his head back, letting the moonlight wash across his face.

Marinette can only stare, fingers hovering over her shoelaces, and marvel at his beauty. The pale glow of Adrien’s skin looks ethereal, as if he’s a mythical spirit that slipped out of the sea for a moment of respite. Marinette half-expects him to dissolve into mist before her eyes.

She slowly removes her shoes, and then the two of them sit in silence, staring out at the stars glittering over the ocean.

“Have you ever heard any selkie folktales?” Adrien asks, after either a minute or an hour.

“Selkies?” Marinette echoes. “Aren’t those, like…mermaids?”

“Sort of,” Adrien says. “I think some languages don’t distinguish the two. But, uh, mermaids have a human half, and a tail…” He pauses and presses his lips together. “Every selkie—according to the tales—has a coat. If they take it off, they become human. And whenever they have it on, they’re a seal.”

A shiver scurries across Marinette’s skin. She knows that Adrien is only recounting a folktale, and yet, his words have an uncomfortable weight to them—as if he’s confessing a secret, rather than telling Marinette a story.

_Seals feel too much like people to me._

Does Adrien think of the selkie stories, whenever he sees seals?

“That’s…unique,” Marinette murmurs. “I’ve never heard a story like that.”

“Selkie stories are almost always sad,” Adrien says, shoulders drooping. “In some of the stories, a man steals the selkie’s coat and forces her to become his bride. In others, the selkies willingly come on land, but end up missing the ocean so much that they run away. Sometimes they even leave their children behind.”

Silence follows the words, and it takes Marinette a moment to understand the hollowness in Adrien’s voice. Stories of abandoned children—is that what happened to Adrien, in a sense? His mother married his father, only to flee and leave Adrien alone?

Hesitantly, Marinette inches her hand across the cold surface of the stone, until her fingers are resting on Adrien’s. “The stories never end happily?”

“Modern ones could, maybe,” Adrien murmurs. His eyes fall to their joined hands, and a smile tugs at his downturned lips. “But usually not. They’re mostly stories about loss and yearning. The whole point of selkie stories is that they’re depressing. Or at least, that’s the sense I get.”

“Oh,” Marinette says quietly. “That’s…really sad.”

Adrien nods. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be so dark. It’s just, that’s what I think of when I see the ocean. And when I saw those seals.” He moves a bit closer, until his shoulder presses against Marinette’s. “When my mother met my father, she moved here to come live with him. I don’t remember where she and I used to live, since I was a baby when she moved…but I know that’s where she went when she left.”

“She’s still alive?”

“Yeah,” Adrien says hoarsely. “She didn’t want to—to disrupt my life, or whatever, by taking me with her. But…” He squeezes his eyes shut, pain sharp in the dark lines on his face. “It’s no use. I can’t shake the feeling of…of missing something.”

“That makes sense, though,” Marinette says. “Of course you miss her. And your hometown, even if you can’t remember it.”

Adrien opens his eyes. “Is that possible, though? To miss something you don’t remember?”

“I don’t see why not.” Marinette kicks her feet against the surface of the water; thanks to her small stature, she can’t submerge her feet the way that Adrien does. “I’ve always wanted to go to China. That’s where my mother’s family is from, but I’ve never had a chance to visit. I know that’s not the same thing you’re describing, but…”

“I think it’s similar,” Adrien says, his voice nearly a whisper. “It’s just…painful. Like I’ll die if I can’t go back.” He lets out an empty laugh. “I know it sounds overdramatic. Sorry. You’re not my therapist, so obviously I don’t expect you to fix it or make me feel better.”

“I wish I could,” Marinette says. “We’re friends, Adrien. I don’t like to see you upset.”

Adrien smiles wryly. “I’ll just have to do a better job of hiding it, then.”

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Well,” Adrien says, “there’s no sense making you worry about something you can’t solve.”

Sighing, Marinette shifts and takes both of his hands in hers. “Adrien. You don’t need to hide how you’re feeling.”

Adrien stares down at their joined hands. “Is that so?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Hm.” Adrien’s fingers twitch against hers, as if he’s about to withdraw them. “I think it’s better to keep some feelings to myself. I don’t want to cause you trouble.”

“I can’t force you to open up,” Marinette says, her thumbs stroking Adrien’s hands. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you.”

Adrien is silent for a long moment. “Thank you,” he says, his voice cracking slightly. “Really. It’s…harder than I’d like to admit. I’m used to pretending I don’t mind, in front of my father.”

Marinette frowns. “Surely he knows that you miss your mother.”

“You’d think,” Adrien says, glancing away. “But he’s afraid I’ll leave him, too. I’m not allowed to visit my mother, or try to find her. He keeps my—he keeps me locked up as often as he can. He thinks I’ll run away the moment I’m free.”

“Maybe you two need to talk,” Marinette says. “So that you could reassure him you won’t leave? It’s ridiculous that he won’t let you go see her.”

“He’s not wrong, though.” Adrien sniffles, and Marinette watches as a tear slips down his cheek. “I _would_ run away if I could. I told you, it hurts to stay here. Like there’s a pit in my stomach all the time.” He snatches his hands away from Marinette and wipes the tears from his eyes, then runs his fingers through his hair. Marinette’s fingers itch to do the same, to find some way to soothe him. “Sorry. I—I’ll figure something out.”

“I…wouldn’t stop you,” Marinette says. “I mean, I’d miss you, but—we could still text! You deserve to see your mother, Adrien. Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”

Adrien laughs. “I don’t know if there’s good service where she lives.” With a watery smile, he turns back to Marinette. “Thank you, Marinette. I…I think I will leave, if I can figure out how to get away from my father.”

“Do what you need to do,” Marinette assures him.

Adrien’s smile widens, his teeth peeking through his lips, and Marinette finds herself smiling back. His joy is contagious, she’s learned; he has a way of pulling Marinette into the sunlight of his smile, and there’s a warmth that always seems to manifest in his presence.

The tabloids all say that Adrien Agreste is magnetic and irresistible—but that’s not it. Marinette thinks it’s more like a light inside him: radiant and warm, dispelling the shadows, drawing people closer.

And yet, he’s lonely. Melancholy clings to him, chilling his fire and muting his brightness. If escaping his father will make that cold darkness go away, then Marinette will do everything she can to help Adrien break free. She doesn’t want to see him waste away in an empty mansion, forced to long for an ocean he loves, kept from pursuing the mother he lost.

“Thank you,” Adrien whispers. “Again. I…” Slowly, he leans forward and presses his lips to Marinette’s cheek, warming her skin. “That means the world to me. Really.” 

“We’ll figure it out,” Marinette says.

Adrien gently rests his cheek against Marinette’s shoulder, his hair tickling her chin. “I hope so.”

The dark sea continues to ripple beneath their feet, and for some reason, it almost feels like an answer.

* * *

Rain beats the windows of Marinette’s room, pattering so loudly that even the music she’s playing on her laptop won’t drown it out.

Her phone had died about a half hour ago, and with the power in their house out for the last hour, she hasn’t been able to recharge it. It’s only a matter of time before the laptop dies, too—and then she’s not sure how she’ll entertain herself, with the lights out and her parents asleep.

Thunder crashes outside, and lightning illuminates the sky like a spotlight. Tikki _mrrs_ and snuggles against Marinette’s stomach, her body warm on Marinette’s lap. Marinette scratches her head and says, “Good girl.” While Tikki doesn’t hide from thunderstorms, she’s not a huge fan of them, either.

A thumping sound breaks through the upbeat pop song playing in Marinette’s ears. Tikki leaps off her lap and runs out the door, and Marinette jumps to her feet—only to stop and realize she still has her headphones in, tethering her to the laptop. Grumbling, Marinette rips them out and walks over to her bedroom doorway, listening carefully for a repeat of the noise.

_Thump-thump. Thump-thump-thump._

It’s the door on the first floor, at the foot of the stairs. Someone’s knocking on it.

“In this weather?” Marinette murmurs, dashing past Tikki. The cat’s tail is fluffed up, and she waits at the top of the stairs while Marinette nearly trips to the landing.

She peers through the window next to the door. One of the streetlights on the sidewalk has gone out, but the remaining ones shed just enough light for Marinette to make out the form of a single person outside—and when another flash of lightning sears the night, Marinette recognizes the person’s face.

“Adrien!” she says, throwing open the door. “What—you…”

He steps inside, water streaming from his hair and clothes. His chest is heaving, and he exhales a quiet _sorry_ before bending forward to catch his breath.

Rain blows through the open doorway, spraying Marinette’s pajamas, and she hastily shuts the door behind him. Instinctively, she flicks on the hall light-switch—but of course, nothing happens. “Sorry,” she says. “Our power’s out.”

“It’s fine.” Adrien runs a hand through his hair. “I won’t be staying long. I…” He shakes his head, scattering rain droplets. For the first time, Marinette notices a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “I’m leaving. Tonight. I wasn’t planning on the storm, but…”

“Wait, what?”

“I tried texting you, but I guess your phone died. Anyway, I’m sorry to just show up like this—”

“Whoa, slow down.” Marinette grips Adrien’s soaked shoulders, feeling cold rain drip from his hair onto the back of her hands. “You’re leaving? In this weather?”

Adrien grimaces. “I don’t really have a choice.”

“At least wait until the storm ends,” Marinette says. “You can stay here tonight! And in the morning, we’ll drive you to the bus stop, or airport, or wherever.”

Her head spins as she tries to process everything he’s said. Ever since their conversation about his mother two months ago, she’s known that Adrien would be leaving his father as soon as he figured out how to—but she’d expected a bit more notice than this. Never in her worst dreams did Marinette expect that he’d show up the night of his departure with a hasty goodbye.

Adrien is important to her. Although he’d been an acquaintance at the beginning of summer, now she can’t imagine him suddenly disappearing from her life. They’ve shared pastries on the floor of her room, scattering crumbs and then trying to stop Tikki from eating them—they’ve walked along the beach together, collecting shells and then making necklaces out of them—they’ve texted and called late into the night, until Adrien is practically dozing off on the phone…

How can all of that be over, just like that?

Tikki had just warmed up to him, sniffing his hand and allowing him to pet her whenever he visited. He’d finally been allowed to stay for dinner two weeks ago! And Marinette still hasn’t finished the beanie she’s been knitting Adrien, to match the scarf she gave him in July.

“I’m sorry,” Adrien says, breaking through her thoughts. “I didn’t realize…” He sighs. “I hadn’t been planning to leave, but an unexpected opportunity arose, and—I had to take it. But my father is going to notice in the morning, and…well, I might never get the chance again.”

Even in the darkness, Marinette can make out the sorrow in his eyes. He doesn’t _want_ to leave so suddenly, she realizes—he’d thought he’d have more time to say goodbye, too.

She can’t pretend to understand exactly what Adrien is talking about. All she knows is that she can’t stop Adrien from his escape, which he’s waited months or even years for.

“I understand,” Marinette says. She tugs him into a hug, feeling her clothes become damp and cold from his. “But—how are you going to leave tonight? The buses aren’t running this late, and I don’t think you could get a ride without your father knowing…”

“I’ve got it covered,” Adrien says. He buries his face against Marinette’s neck and mumbles, “I’m sorry, again. I…don’t know when I’ll be back, and—” His voice breaks, and he shudders against her. “You’ve been amazing, Marinette. I just want to let you know that. I don’t think I would’ve had the strength to leave, without you supporting me.”

Marinette hopes that’s a good thing. Because the ache in her chest and the tears in her eyes—they don’t feel like good things. She doesn’t understand how Adrien leaving could be _good._

But she does. Adrien needs to be free; he’s been wilting for years in his father’s controlling hands, and Marinette knows he’ll be happier when he finally escapes. His light won’t be smothered anymore. His warmth won’t be frozen out. Even if it hurts to see him go, it’s for his own good.

“I’m glad you’re finally getting away,” Marinette says, her voice shaking. She clears her throat and pulls back, composing herself. “But…we can still talk on the phone, can’t we? Or email, or write? Even if you end up in some countryside with no internet…”

“I don’t know,” Adrien says. His hand hovers near Marinette’s cheek, like he wants to touch but can’t bring himself to. “I promise I’ll let you know when I’m back, though. I don’t plan to stay away forever.”

Just like that, then. Is their friendship not important enough for him to try and keep in touch? Or is there something else, something Marinette doesn’t understand, that will keep him away? She wants to believe it’s the second one, but she doesn’t know what that could possibly be.

“Marinette,” Adrien murmurs. His hand finally cups Marinette’s cheek, cold and wet against her skin. “You know that feeling you get sometimes, when there are things you can’t quite explain? Like there’s some invisible force, or—or something that’s in the wrong place, even though it feels like it’s always been there?”

Unbidden, Marinette’s mind goes to the seals—maybe because she associates them so closely with Adrien, or maybe because they’re exactly what he’s describing. That feeling of being watched, of witnessing something more than her eyes could see. Of something not-quite-right, even though everything seemed normal on the surface.

“Yes,” she says, and for a moment, the shadows around Adrien seem to move. Car headlights passing outside, maybe—or clouds flitting past the moon, shifting its light. 

“That’s what this is,” he says. “I don’t know how to explain, but—can you just trust that I’ll come back to you eventually?”

Marinette doesn’t need to think long about her answer. “Yes,” she says. “I trust you.” Standing on her tiptoes, she presses a kiss to his cheek—and Adrien sighs, wrapping his arms around her and melting into another hug.

“I don’t want to leave,” he says, quietly. “Before I met you, it would have been easier.”

“Are you saying you wish you’d never met me?” Marinette jokes, poking his shoulder.

Adrien pulls back to look at her, even though it’s too dark for either of them to see much. “Never,” he says. “You’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me, Marinette.”

Marinette nearly surges forward and kisses him right then—but she stops herself, because that will only make this hurt more. “You are, too,” she says, smiling. “So you’d better come back eventually, or else I’m going to hunt you down and drag your butt back here.”

Adrien’s grin flashes in the darkness. “Noted.” He gives her one last hug, and then he steps away. “Alright. I…I’d better go now. I’ll see you around, Marinette.”

Not a goodbye—which is encouraging. Adrien _does_ intend to return, eventually.

“See you,” Marinette says, with a small wave. “Can I walk you to your ride, or…”

“It’s okay,” Adrien says. “Stay inside where it’s safe and warm. And give Tikki a kiss for me, when you see her.”

“Oh?” Marinette says. “A kiss for my cat, but not for me?”

Adrien pauses, and Marinette worries that her teasing has crossed a line—but then he steps forward and kisses her cheek, slowly and softly. Her skin fizzles from his touch, as if his lips are made of electricity.

“I don’t want our story to end sadly,” Adrien murmurs.

It feels like a second has passed when Marinette blinks her eyes open—except Adrien is gone, and the door stands open in front of her, showing an empty street outside.

“Wait,” Marinette says. She trips outside, banging her shoulder on the doorframe as she does. “Adrien?”

Rain immediately soaks her clothes, gluing them to her skin. Marinette squints against the torrent and runs down the driveway, searching for Adrien as a shiver racks her spine. The street is empty, though, without even a pair of taillights to follow.

_I don’t want our story to end sadly._

Standing in the cold night, Marinette feels like she’s on the cusp of something—an answer, an explanation—something he’s said—something she’s missed—and her feet move of their own accord, carrying her down the sidewalk toward the ocean. She splashes through puddles, chilling her calves as more water soaks her thin pajama pants, scraping her bare feet as they pound across the sidewalk. She needs to move faster, faster, before the realization can escape her.

Marinette reaches the end of the street and sprints through the grass, sticky mud squelching beneath her toes. She stops at the top of the bank overlooking the beach and desperately scans the shore, her mind insisting that Adrien is here, somewhere, if she just looks hard enough.

The thunderclouds overhead part, casting white moonlight on the churning waves below. The water sparkles and thrashes, and as Marinette watches, she feels the revelation slip away—gone, like something she just dropped into the ocean, never to find again.

“Adrien,” Marinette whispers, bangs plastered to her forehead. “Adrien!”

But he’s disappeared. Like a thread snapping, she felt him break away from the town, and now…he’s gone. His absence is palpable, like an empty lot where a building used to be, or a bare space on the wall where a portrait once was.

Gone, just like that.

Hot tears mixing with the rain battering her face, Marinette turns and trudges back towards her house, wishing she understood what just slipped through her fingers.

* * *

In the days following Adrien’s departure— _disappearance,_ really, is how it feels—Marinette has trouble thinking about other things. It’s like losing a tooth and repeatedly running her tongue over the gap; she can’t ignore his absence, no matter how hard she tries.

She waits a few days to send him a text, telling him that she hopes his travels are going safely. It never delivers, though, not even as days turn to weeks.

Eventually, Marinette learns to stop fixating on Adrien’s disappearance. She finishes his beanie and leaves it in her bottom drawer, buried under old pullovers she hardly ever wears. She spends time with her friends who are back in town for the school year—friends she’d _meant_ to introduce to Adrien, except now he’s gone, and there’s no point in even mentioning him. She dives into homework and college applications, and works on commissions, and makes herself so busy that she almost manages to forget Adrien Agreste completely.

It doesn’t always work, though. Marinette takes pictures of Tikki to send to Adrien, before remembering that she doesn’t know how to contact him. She sometimes boots up a video game without thinking, only to be confronted with his name on the high score list. And worst is when she and her friends go to the beach; even though it’s a different part of the shoreline, the sand and sea seem _imbued_ with Adrien, as if he left a tiny piece of his soul in them.

Marinette’s senior year ends up being so busy that she almost doesn’t notice that the end of May has arrived—and with it, the anniversary of her first meeting with Adrien. Stupidly, she climbs down to their spot on the beach, expecting to find him, the seals, something.

No one is there. _Adrien_ isn’t there, and it’s been almost nine months since she last heard from him.

With a hollow spot aching in her chest, Marinette makes her way home, chastising herself for being foolish enough to think that Adrien would reappear just like that.

A warm breeze winds down the street, ruffling the loose sleeves of Marinette’s blouse. She pauses and glances around the block, sure that there’s someone else with her. The street is empty, though, with no other person in sight.

Skin prickling, Marinette takes another step forward—and abruptly skids to a stop, her foot hovering above a black cat in the street.

She yelps and jumps backwards. “Where did you—ack! I’m sorry!”

Most cats would run from Marinette’s shrieking and flailing. This one, however, flops over and lets out a long _mrrow,_ revealing a white tuft of fur on its chest.

It acts like other friendly neighborhood cats Marinette has seen, and yet…a strange feeling hovers in the air, one that Marinette hasn’t felt since she saw the seals a year ago.

“You want pets?” Marinette asks. Hesitantly, she crouches and runs her fingers through the cat’s soft fur. It closes its eyes and drops its head to the sidewalk, a loud purr rumbling in the air. “I guess you do.”

After a few moments, she stands and starts toward her house at the end of the block—and feels fur brush against her ankles as the cat rubs against her legs. Marinette pauses and sighs, leaning down to scratch the cat’s head while it sniffs the cuffs of her pants.

“You probably smell Tikki,” Marinette says, giving it a final pat on the head. “I have to go now, kitty.”

The cat follows her down the street, though, and marches right up to the door that leads to the foyer. Marinette nudges it with her foot and manages to slip through the door without letting it inside—and then an offended meow sounds from the other side of the door, and Marinette sighs.

She knows it’s probably a bad idea to feed a stray, or a neighbor’s cat. At the same time, Adrien loves cats, and it’s the anniversary of their meeting, and Marinette can’t bring herself to turn away a cat that’s begging for attention.

Marinette sprints up the stairs to the kitchen and throws open the pantry door, then grabs the bag of soft cat treats that Tikki’s obsessed with. At the sound of the crinkling bag, Tikki comes running from the bedroom, then sits at Marinette’s feet with wide eyes.

“Oh, fine,” Marinette says, sprinkling a few treats on the floor. “But don’t tell your grandparents.” Then she dumps a few more treats into her palm, puts the bag away, and runs back downstairs.

The black cat is still waiting outside the door when Marinette slips outside and drops the treats in front of him. He sniffs them, gives one a lick…and then sits back and stares up at Marinette, swiping a tongue around his lips.

“Seriously?” Marinette says. “Those are the best we have. Unless you’re like Alya’s cat who’s obsessed with cheese—”

The cat meows loudly, shifting from one paw to the other. Its pupils dilate, and Marinette can practically _feel_ the desire radiating from it.

She hesitates. “Was that because I said…chees—”

_MRROW!_

“Alright, alright!” Marinette says, holding her hands up in surrender. “I’ll be back. Unless that’s your name.” She frowns to herself. “That’s kind of an odd name for a—”

_Meow. Meow! MEOW!_

“Fine,” Marinette mutters. She marches back upstairs to the kitchen fridge, where she finds half a wheel of camembert wrapped up. “This will have to do, I guess…”

She cuts off a gooey piece and places it on a napkin, then returns to the demanding cat sitting outside their door. Before she can even set the cheese on the ground, the cat stands on its back legs, claws pricking her knee, its purr rattling in the air.

“Whoa,” Marinette says, crouching down. “Okay, you’re clearly very excited about the—”

In one deft swoop, the cat plucks the entire piece of camembert from the napkin with its teeth. Within seconds, the cheese is completely devoured, and the cat sits up again, the mania gone from its eyes. With a satisfied air, it licks its paw and starts cleaning its face.

“Right,” Marinette says slowly. “Well, I hope you enjoyed your treat, kitty cat. Have a good evening!”

She steps inside again and closes the door. This time, there’s no angry meow from outside—and when she peers out the nearest window, she sees no sign of the strange cat.

_You know that feeling you get sometimes, when there are things you can’t quite explain? Like there’s some invisible force, or—or something that’s in the wrong place, even though it feels like it’s always been there?_

The seals, Adrien, and now the cat—those are the only times Marinette’s ever felt that uncanny sense of _something._ Even after months of puzzling, she still can’t figure out exactly what Adrien’s departing message meant. She doesn’t think he was being metaphorical; there _is_ a strange feeling that comes and goes, as if she’s seeing something without quite seeing it. But what does that have to do with him leaving?

She sometimes fears the worst. Adrien hasn’t contacted her since he left, and the nights that insomnia claws Marinette away from sleep, she wonders if she hasn’t heard from him because he’s gone—truly, completely gone. Maybe he went to the beach that night, and the stormy waves swept him away; maybe that’s why it feels like the water has traces of him whenever she looks at it.

Marinette tries not to let her thoughts go there, though. It’s better to stay optimistic.

And yet, there are no sightings of Adrien Agreste. No photoshoots. His few acquaintances haven’t heard from him, and his father is tight-lipped, providing no explanation to journalists except that Adrien has _decided to_ _travel the world before settling down_.

Ha. As if Adrien could go anywhere without the paparazzi spotting him. Either Adrien absconded to some foreign countryside where no one knows him, or something horrible has happened to him. People don’t just disappear.

The longer Adrien’s unexplained absence lasts, the faster Marinette’s hope wanes, until she eventually resigns herself to the fact that he isn’t returning. It’s better to set her expectations there, anyway: that way, she’ll be pleasantly surprised if he comes back.

She’s almost certain he isn’t going to.

Summer passes in fits and starts—some weeks zip by, while certain days drag on forever. Those are usually the days when Marinette finds herself thinking of Adrien; it’s hard to let go completely, when she feels like she has to solve the mystery of his disappearance.

The black cat continues to come by almost every day, to the point that Marinette’s parents order her to scout the neighborhood and find his owner. No one claims him, though, and he ends up joining the household. They name him Plagg for no particular reason, except that Marinette has a bizarre feeling that’s the name he would prefer—and aside from breaking a few plates and inhaling every piece of cheese he sees, he doesn’t cause much trouble.

On the last day of August, Marinette stands in her bedroom doorway, scanning the room for anything she’s forgotten. She’s finally finished packing, and tomorrow, her parents will be driving her to the city to move her into her university apartment—which she’ll be sharing with her friend Alya, who already moved in last weekend.

“Don’t forget to pack something you can get dirty,” Marinette’s mother calls from the living room. “You don’t want to ruin any of your nice clothes.”

“Got it!” Marinette says.

She kneels on the ground next to her dresser and pulls open the lowest drawer, rifling through the old pullovers and t-shirts folded up there. Her fingers brush something soft, and she parts the clothes to reveal a pale blue beanie.

Marinette’s eyes sting, and she rests her forehead against the dresser. It’s been almost a year since Adrien left, and she still isn’t ready to accept that he’s not coming back. How could someone so bright and beautiful just evaporate from her life? How could he show up in the middle of a stormy night, and steal away all the warmth and smiles he’d promised to Marinette?

Except he’d never promised anything to her. Only that he would come back, eventually—but sometimes death devours promises, or people simply forget them.

Marinette doesn’t want to admit that Adrien might have forgotten about her. The alternative is worse, though, so she convinces herself that that’s what happened: Adrien found his mother in some obscure city on the coast, and they’re so happy together that he can’t remember anything good about the town he left behind.

That thought punctures Marinette’s heart, and she squeezes her eyes shut. Grabbing a random pullover, she slams the dresser door shut and rests her back against it, fingers curled in the fabric.

Plagg blinks his eyes open from where he’s sleeping on the bed, half on-top of Tikki. The two sometimes spar when they’re awake, and Marinette can tell he annoys Tikki sometimes—but they like each other enough to share napping spots, anyway.

“Sorry, Plagg,” Marinette says. “You can go back to sleep. I’m just…thinking about Adrien again. I hope he’s alright.”

Plagg tilts his head to the side, as if he’s considering that. Then he yawns and settles his chin against the bedspread again, breaths slowing as he drifts back to sleep.

“You two would get along,” Marinette mutters. “I don’t understand either of you.”

She crams the pullover into her suitcase of clothes, and then she greets her parents in the living room.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” Marinette says. “I’m going to the beach before it gets dark.”

They nod, and she makes her way outside, where the air warms her skin and the setting sun blinds her eyes.

The sky is gorgeous, a mix of oranges and pinks—but it feels dull. As Marinette walks to her spot on the beach, there’s no sense of magic in the air: like a movie where the soundtrack suddenly goes silent, or an illustration that hasn’t been shaded.

Still, Marinette climbs down to the empty cove and stares out at the water, silently begging it for an explanation. _Where did he go? Did you see him? Did you take him?_

But the ocean can’t speak, and Marinette’s questions go unanswered.

When she climbs back up to the top of the bank, she finds Plagg waiting for her, his tail tucked neatly around his paws. “Plagg!” Marinette says. “How did you…”

 _Meow,_ he says.

Marinette sighs. He probably slipped out the door after her; he has a habit of doing that.

“Come here,” she says, scooping him up. He purrs as she does, as if he hasn’t just inconvenienced her by forcing her to carry him all the way home. (Plagg does not like to walk unless he has to, Marinette has learned—he’s been spoiled by the free transportation a set of arms can provide.)

The two of them return to the house together, and Marinette tells herself that’s how it should be. There shouldn’t be a third body coming back with them; as far as Marinette is concerned, there never was anyone else.

She needs to forget Adrien, before the pain of wondering breaks her heart.

When the car is packed up the next morning, Marinette doesn’t visit the beach one last time. She kisses Tikki on the head, gives Plagg a chin-scratch, and grabs her last bag—and then she leaves without a second thought, ready to forget the tragedy that lingers in the ocean air.

* * *

Marinette drops the handle of her suitcase and collapses onto the nearest armchair, groaning as her back meets the plush cushion. “Home at last.”

“Weren’t you just here in March?” her father jokes, closing the door to the stairs.

“School is stressful,” Marinette says. Even though she hasn’t picked a major yet, she’s overloaded on classes—mostly art and business—and it feels like her two semesters of university have lasted both a week and a year.

“You can take a nap before dinner,” Tom says. “It’ll be ready in…two hours, probably.”

“Sounds good,” Marinette mumbles.

She drags herself to her bedroom and throws herself onto the bed, inhaling the smell of fresh sheets. She’s noticed that home smells different when she visits, now. The air has a spark from the ocean that her university town doesn’t have—and of course, the apartment itself smells strongly of cats. (Funny, how she never noticed that when she was around them all the time.)

Within moments, Tikki jumps up on the bed next to Marinette and _mrrs_ quietly, butting her wet nose against Marinette’s arm. Marinette laughs and pets her head—and then a black fluffy mass jumps up beside Tikki, declaring his presence with a loud _MEOW._

“Aw, I missed you too, Plagg,” Marinette says. She rolls over to free her other arm, scratching Plagg’s chin while she pets Tikki.

The sadness she felt when she first left for college seems to have mostly evaporated now. Marinette’s sure she could still find it, if she checked the photos above her desk or the beanie in her bottom drawer—but the pain isn’t so present anymore, since she’s been gone.

It still hurts, though, if she thinks long enough—like a bruise that doesn’t ache unless it’s pressed.

Marinette drifts off to sleep within minutes, before she’s even thought to take off her shoes. At some point, she half-wakes to her mother knocking on the door frame to tell her that dinner is ready; and then Marinette dozes off again, her head heavy with exhaustion, her bed too comfortable to leave.

When Marinette next wakes, the room is completely dark. Pale moonlight slants through the window of her room, illuminating Tikki’s curled-up form. Plagg, however, is nowhere to be found.

Yawning, Marinette stumbles to her feet and checks the living room. It’s empty, meaning her parents have apparently gone to bed, but there’s a note on the kitchen counter telling her that dinner is in the fridge. Plagg isn’t in the kitchen either, though, which is strange for him; usually if one person is awake at night, he’ll show up in the kitchen to beg for cheese.

Marinette checks the rest of the apartment and still can’t find Plagg. He’s not in the litter box, and he isn’t even summoned when Marinette shakes the treat bag—which does cause Tikki to show up, and leads Marinette to give her a few treats as an apology for getting her excited.

He could be in one of his reclusive moods. Sometimes he hides under her parents’ bed for several hours, sleeping in the dark coziness until he gets hungry. But when Marinette has just gotten back from college, it’s strange for him to be hiding.

Marinette wanders into her room again, thinking that maybe she somehow missed him—and that’s when she notices that her window is open, just enough for a cat to slip outside.

She groans and jogs out the bedroom door. Her mother had mentioned earlier that ever since Marinette left for college, Plagg has taken to slipping out the window and down the fire escape whenever he gets the chance. The window had probably been left open to let some fresh springtime air into the room.

“Plagg,” Marinette says, once she’s outside. She scans the driveway for his fluffy form, but there’s no sign of him in the light from the street lamps. “Plagg! I’ve got cheese!”

She actually forgot to grab cheese, but he doesn’t need to know that.

Rain mists against her skin as she moves toward the sidewalk. It’s not enough to soak her clothes—just enough to chill her skin and make her wish she’d grabbed a jacket.

When she reaches the sidewalk, she spots him: dark form, neon green collar, streaking down the sidewalk in the direction of the beach. Calling his name, Marinette takes off after him.

She chases him until they reach the grass near the cliff’s edge. He abruptly stops and meows, and then he flops over and starts casually licking his belly.

Marinette sighs. “You little…”

She trails off as she inhales the ocean air. There’s a sharp weight to it that she can’t place—a mix of nostalgia and realization, some feeling that doesn’t seem to have a name—but it’s a call of some sort, beckoning her forward, urging her to answer.

Without thinking, Marinette scrambles down the side of the bank. She doesn’t even think to circle around and take the path; instead, she slides down the rough rock just like Adrien did the day they met, scuffing her skin and tumbling to the ground with an _oof._

Heart thumping, Marinette stumbles to her feet and brushes her hands on her pants. She instinctively looks out at the water, even though she knows there shouldn’t be anything there—

Except there is.

Marinette’s mouth falls open as she gazes at the single seal lounging on the moonlit stones, its coat practically glimmering in the light. It seems to be a tawny color, though Marinette could swear it has a gold tinge—as if it’s basking in the afternoon sun, rather than lying beneath the moon and stars.

The shadows and water seem to shift in Marinette’s vision, and she finds that she has difficulty focusing on her surroundings. It reminds her of the state between sleeping and waking, when things are said that aren’t remembered, an eerie almost-dream that she won’t recall in the morning.

Marinette tentatively moves toward the seal. It’s the only thing that’s clear, its pale form stark against the shadows—although even then, her eyes occasionally dance away from the seal’s form, like she’s staring at something too bright and has to rest her eyes.

She watches in confusion as the seal’s fins—or fingers? it’s hard to say, now—reach toward its head. Skin shaped like a hood drops down around its neck—except maybe it _is_ a hood, now that Marinette looks more closely—and her vision flickers as she watches without entirely seeing.

The shed skin reveals pale glittering hair that falls mid-chest, soft like silk, glowing like marble, and…

Hair. A human chest.

Seals don’t have those. 

When did the seal become a person? Has Marinette lost her mind? Has she been sleepwalking this whole time?

But no, it’s still part-seal: from its waist down is a pinniped tail, gleaming ethereally. The seal continues to peel down its skin—cloak— _something,_ past the torso, past the waist, revealing more and more human underneath.

Marinette feels like she should look away—and when the last bit of seal falls away to reveal slender legs, she does avert her eyes, shocked by the nude form reclining on the stones.

She’s sure it was a seal. She knows what she saw.

Except now it’s human.

Like a mermaid, but a seal. One that turns into a person.

Clarity lights up her mind, and she recalls the stories Adrien told her a few times they visited the beach. Selkies: seal creatures that can remove their coats and become enchanting humans, except they lose the ability to transform if their coat is stolen, and they can only stay on land for so long before their yearning for the sea becomes agonizing.

Marinette gasps and turns back to the person sitting on the rocks. Startled, they turn to face her—and then they yelp and flail, slipping off the rock and splashing into the ocean.

“I’m so sorry!” Marinette calls, and her voice shatters the stillness in the air, dispelling the dreamy heaviness that had descended on the beach.

She instinctively darts toward the water—and then she pauses. The selkie probably won’t want to be disturbed any further; Marinette has clearly scared it already, so it’s probably best if she keeps her distance.

 _Selkie._ Is that really what she saw? Or has her sadness about Adrien warped the beach bit by bit, to the point that she can’t help but hallucinate when she sets foot on the sand?

A few moments pass, and then the pale head breaks through the surface of the water. The person wades forward until they’re waist-deep in the water, only their chest and face exposed. “Sorry,” they say.

Marinette covers her mouth, muffling a shriek. She knows, logically, that selkies aren’t like sirens—or at least, Adrien had never mentioned any stories about seal people dragging young maidens into the sea. And yet, it’s impossible to stay composed when a _magical seal person_ is talking to her.

She must be hallucinating. She feels too awake to be dreaming, but this feels too strange to be real.

The person ducks down, submerging all but their eyes and forehead in the water. Their hair floats around them, gleaming golden in the star-speckled sea. “Sorry,” they repeat, just barely lifting their lips from the water. “Marinette, is that you?” 

Even as Marinette’s mind whispers _this could be a trick, this could be a trap,_ she finds herself drawn forward, taking step after step until she’s crouched at the water’s edge. “And—if it is?”

The person lifts their face above the water again—and this time, recognition slams into Marinette, obliterating the lingering trance in the air.

“Adrien?” she breathes, and the person’s lips stretch into a blinding grin. “That—you—is it really…”

“It’s me,” he says.

Marinette throws herself forward, cutting her knees on the stones beneath the water as she kneels and throws her arms around Adrien’s neck. It soaks her clothes and freezes her skin, but she doesn’t care—because Adrien is here, alive, and he kept his promise after all.

“You came back,” she says.

Adrien flinches in her arms. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I—I can explain everything, if you…um, how much did you see?”

Marinette’s tongue ties itself up. She’s afraid to speak aloud what she just witnessed—because what if it really _was_ a hallucination, and Adrien thinks she’s lost her mind?

“Seal,” she manages. “And then…the…your coat…” Slowly, her eyes drift to the stone behind him, where a shimmering mass of fabric—skin?—rests on the surface. “Oh my god. That was real.”

“Right,” Adrien says awkwardly. “So…there’s a lot to explain.” He pulls back from the hug and tucks a wet strand of hair behind his ear. “I know I don’t have a right to ask any favors of you, but—”

“Don’t start with that,” Marinette scolds. “Whatever you need—”

“Clothes,” Adrien says. “My, uh—if I put on the coat, I’ll just turn into a seal again, and I’d also rather not run around the beach naked.”

“Of course!” Marinette says, her mind ignoring the part where Adrien said _I’ll turn into a seal again._ “Um, one second. Don’t, uh…”

“I won’t leave again,” Adrien says softly.

“You’d better not,” Marinette snaps. “I—I’ll be right back.”

She sprints up the path and back toward the house. Plagg watches her pass him from his spot in the grass, and it doesn’t even occur to her to grab him as she flies down the sidewalk. In the door, up the stairs—and Marinette startles Tikki when she bursts into the room, prompting a sleepy _mrrow_ from the cat.

“It’s okay,” Marinette says, patting her on the head. Tikki lowers her head to her paws and settles back down, though she keeps her eyes cracked open to watch Marinette.

Marinette roots through her closet, not sure what she has that will fit Adrien. Although he’s slender, he’s also much taller than her, with slightly broader shoulders. Will any of her shirts even fit? She supposes that’s less important than finding him something to wear on his lower half.

Just when she’s contemplating giving him a towel and telling any passerby that he went for a midnight swim, she spots it—a long pink skirt with an elastic waist, which she hasn’t worn since she sewed herself something similar about a year ago.

Marinette snatches the skirt from its hanger, then grabs a roomy gray sweater as an afterthought. Standing in water late at night, when the evening air is so chilly—Adrien’s probably going to be cold, if she doesn’t give him something for his top half. After one last scan of her closet, she grabs an over-sized button-up, too, and then she slams the door shut and sprints back downstairs.

The outfit matches decently, too—not that it matters, but even with her head spinning, Marinette still has an appreciation for color coordination.

She makes it back to the beach in record time, practically tripping down the path. Fear claws her chest when she comes around the corner and doesn’t see Adrien at first; did he really leave again? Did she just imagine him?

Then she spots his blond head poking out of the water by the rocks. As Marinette moves toward him, he rises out of the water and boosts himself up onto the dark stones.

Marinette glances away and shoves the bundle of clothes in his general direction. “Here,” she says. “At least some of this should fit.”

“Oh, sorry,” Adrien says. “The other selkies don’t really…think about nudity. I kind of forgot.”

“You’re fine,” Marinette squeaks.

Water splashes as Adrien presumably pulls his feet from the ocean to get dressed. About a minute later, he says, “Okay. I’m decent.”

Marinette slowly turns to face him. The skirt falls around his knees, and apparently the shirt and sweater fit as well. Human calves, and hands, and a familiar face…he almost looks normal. There’s still an otherworldly beauty to his features, though—a sharpness in his eyes, a glimmer on his skin, something that keeps him from seeming fully human.

Frowning, Adrien gathers his long hair and wrings it over the water. It’s a damp brown now, devoid of the glow the water gave it; Marinette wonders if she imagined it in the first place, or if it’s something to do with selkies and their affinity for water.

“Thank you,” Adrien says, tugging on the hem of the sweater. “Um. I kept track of the days.”

“Oh,” Marinette says. She’s not sure what that’s supposed to mean.

“I mean,” Adrien says, “selkies, when they’re together, and in the water—they don’t really…” He bites his lip and looks away. “Time passes differently, if you lose yourself to the feeling.”

There’s nothing overtly sinister about that—but a chill ripples across Marinette’s skin at the implication. Does that mean Adrien could have been gone years, without realizing it? Could he have been gone a lifetime, and only realized once he returned and found that Marinette was no longer alive?

“So you counted,” Marinette says, her voice muted.

“More or less.” Adrien twirls a strand of his hair. “It’s been about…seven seasons, anyway? I’m not sure if we’re in May or June.”

“May,” Marinette says. Moving carefully, she crawls onto the stone and sits beside him. The water chills her already-soaked legs, but she ignores the feeling; Adrien’s thigh pressing against hers is warm, and she focuses on that instead. “You’ve been gone almost two years.”

“I’m sorry,” Adrien says.

“Don’t be!” Marinette says. This isn’t about her, after all. Adrien spent years locked up by his father—he’s entitled to as much freedom as he wants. “Um, did you…find your mother?”

As she says the words, it all clicks: the mother who left Adrien, who reminded him of the sea…she must be a selkie, too.

She wants to laugh. Of course, of _course—_ that all makes perfect sense. Even though Marinette never could have figured out what Adrien meant, he never really told a lie. He just omitted where his mother had gone: back to the sea, to her people, following the call of the water.

“Yeah,” Adrien says. He doesn’t sound as happy as Marinette expected. “She—she apologized, obviously. She’d meant for me to follow her, if I wanted. She didn’t realize that my father would lock up my coat and trap me on land.” 

Marinette gasps. “Wait, that—he stole your coat?”

“Technically,” Adrien says. “If you asked him, he’d say I can’t remember having it, so it was never really mine.” He laughs bitterly. “Actually, if you asked him, he’d probably deny it existed. As far as he’s concerned, he has a wife who drowned and a son who’s completely normal.” Adrien shakes his head. “I mean, I grew up knowing what I am. And he knows, too. But anything that doesn’t fit his ideal reality…”

Marinette rests her hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Adrien. I didn’t realize it was that bad for you.”

“Yeah.” Adrien sighs. “Yeah. It physically hurt, not being able to go in the water. But once I did, and once I found my mother…”

“Yes?”

“We’re different,” Adrien says. At first, Marinette thinks he’s talking about himself and her—and she almost says, _Well, of course we are. You can turn into a seal._ But then he continues: “Don’t get me wrong, it was great seeing my mother again. It’s just…she didn’t miss the land at all. She was perfectly happy to be gone. She never thought about my father—really, she was just angry at him, since he’d guilted her into staying on land for so long.”

“Why didn’t she take you with her? Or come back for you?”

“She didn’t want to force me to abandon my life on land,” Adrien says. “It’s all I’d ever known, so…I guess she convinced herself she was doing me a favor.”

“But it hurt you!” Marinette says. “You—you said you felt like you’d die. I remember now.”

Her heart breaks at the realization: that all those tragic stories he told, about selkies longing for the sea to the point of desperation—those had been about _him,_ too. Adrien had been wasting away on land, and Marinette had just thought that he missed his mother.

“I don’t anymore,” Adrien says, smiling at the water. “But that’s why my mother and I are different.”

Marinette squints at his profile. “What do you mean?”

Adrien finally turns to look at her, a sweet smile gracing his lips. “I did miss the land. After I’d been back in the water for a few months…the shore started calling for me.” His hand moves slightly across the stone until a few of his fingers overlap with Marinette’s. “Or specifically, the people.”

“People?”

“Maybe just one person.”

Adrien’s gleaming eyes bore into Marinette’s, and she feels it like a gong in her heart: he missed her, too. He missed her so much that he _came back_ for her.

Marinette tugs him into another hug, burying her nose in his damp hair. “I missed you.”

“I’m sorry,” Adrien says. He holds her close, his arms tight and secure. “I know I left suddenly. I _had_ to, before I went insane—but if I’d stayed talking to you any longer, I don’t think I would have been able to leave.” He leans back and cups Marinette’s cheek, his thumb poised to catch any tears that might fall. “You’re a powerful force, Marinette. I think you called for me even louder than the ocean did.”

Marinette’s cheeks heat. “I didn’t actually call for you.”

“You know,” Adrien says. “Supposedly selkies are these enchanting, seductive creatures—”

“Supposedly?” Marinette echoes skeptically. She resists the urge to add, _Have you looked in a mirror?_

Adrien laughs. “I knew you were human, but I’ve always thought—you’re so compelling, you _must_ have some sort of magic. I met a lot of selkies while I was gone, and none of them stirred my heart like you do.”

“I—I don’t think I have any magic,” Marinette says.

“Not literally, anyway,” Adrien says. “And you’re right. I don’t think I’m enchanted by you because you’re a selkie.” He leans slightly closer, and Marinette’s eyes trace a water droplet as it rolls down his cheek. “I think it’s because I fell in love with you.”

Shock pulses through Marinette’s body, and she freezes, her eyes wide.

Adrien _loves_ her?

He lets go of her and moves away, covering his mouth with one hand. “Sorry. I—I know we didn’t know each other that long. And I didn’t necessarily mean it romantically. But I…I do love you.” He sighs. “I know I don’t have a right to say that, when I left for two years.”

“Why didn’t you come back sooner?” Marinette asks.

Because he’s right—if he loved her, why did he stay away that long? Why did he let her think he was dead? He clearly knew how long he’d been gone, if he’s been counting the seasons.

“I—I was afraid,” Adrien said. “At first, I thought my father might be hunting me down. I didn’t want him to steal my coat again. And then…” His voice breaks, and Marinette watches a tear crawl down his cheek. “I didn’t know how to tell you. And—you know, selkie stories are always so sad. They rarely love humans happily, and if they do, something bad always happens.”

“Adrien,” Marinette whispers. She wipes away his tear and pulls him into another fierce hug. “Those are the stories. I’m sure real life is different.”

“And how much do you know about real life?” Adrien says wryly. “Until a half hour ago, you didn’t realize seal people exist.”

“You’re a selkie who misses the land,” Marinette retorts. “What do _you_ really know about—about _seal people_ life?”

Adrien’s body shakes with laughter against hers. “Maybe you have a point.”

Silence sits between them, and then Marinette asks, “So…you stayed away for two years because you were afraid?”

“No,” Adrien says. He sighs and rests his head on her shoulder. “I was going to come back after a year, and then I realized you’d left for school. I took that as a sign that I should just stay away from you permanently. I knew I’d already hurt you by disappearing without an explanation, and never contacting you, and—and it just seemed better to leave you alone.”

Marinette leans back and presses her hands to Adrien’s cheeks, cupping his face. “I’m glad you’re back,” she says. “I never completely stopped thinking about you.”

“I’m sorry—”

Marinette moves a finger to his lips. “No more apologies for now. We can talk more later.”

Adrien nods, and Marinette slowly lowers her finger.

For a while, they simply sit and stare at the water while Marinette tries to process everything.

First, those seals she spotted on the beach one day were probably selkies. There was something supernatural about them, and the way Adrien had practically _communed_ with them…in hindsight, it seems so obvious.

And Adrien’s parting words, _I don’t want our story to end sadly_ —of course. Every selkie story he’d ever been told had ended in tragedy. The night he left, he wasn’t just upset about leaving Marinette; he was upset because his departure felt like a prophecy fulfilled. Whether he stayed on land or left, he’d end up heartbroken.

She wishes she had known, so that she could have reassured him: that she cares about him whether he’s a human or not, that she wouldn’t fault him for leaving. Maybe then Adrien wouldn’t have taken so long to come back, or to tell her that he loves her.

Marinette turns to say those words to Adrien—but then his eyes meet hers, and the syllables on her tongue dry up. “I, um…”

“Is something wrong?” he asks.

“I don’t care what you are,” Marinette blurts out. “And I—I would never expect you to stay on land, the way your father did. I know the sea is a part of you.”

She’s not sure whether she’s making any sense, but when Adrien’s lips stretch in a smile, she thinks that maybe she’s on the right track. “Thank you,” he says. “I know this is a lot to take in.”

“And I want to kiss you,” Marinette blurts out. Adrien’s eyes widen, and she slaps a hand over her mouth. “I didn’t mean to say that! I mean, I love you—no, wait…” She groans and buries her face in her hands. “Ignore that last part. I’m having trouble processing everything.”

Adrien’s laugh chimes in the air. “I know. Like I said, it’s a lot.”

Once Marinette has composed herself, she slowly lowers her hands from her face. “Adrien…”

“Yes?”

“What if I—what if I wanted to try to be with you?”

Adrien tilts his head to the side. “Be with me how?”

“I guess however you want,” Marinette says, wringing her hands together. “But I meant…romantically?” She shakes her head. “No, wait. You didn’t even say that you’d be staying on land. I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?”

“I’m staying,” Adrien says, and his words chase away the evening chill. “But, Marinette…”

“I understand!” she says. “It won’t work out. No need to say anything more.”

“No,” Adrien says. His hands find hers, and he holds them between their bodies, his touch tender. “No, Marinette, I _want_ that. But…what if I get tired of the land eventually? It wouldn’t be easy for you to follow me, and it wouldn’t be fair to make you wait years again.”

“We can at least try,” Marinette says firmly. “And Adrien, you’d been away from the sea for almost two decades. You couldn’t even remember having your coat! Of course you were sick of the land. But maybe now that you’re free to go whenever you want…don’t you think you’ll feel better, having that option?”

“I think so.” Adrien presses his lips together, like he doesn’t want to say his next words. “You don’t…think it’s weird? My transformation? I mean, would you mind being with…someone like me?”

“I love every version of you,” Marinette says. Grinning, she pokes his chest. “You make a pretty human _and_ a pretty seal.” She leans forward, peering around Adrien at the shimmering coat sitting next to him. “Um, can I…see your coat up close?”

“Sure.” Adrien carefully lifts it from the stone and holds it out for Marinette. “Here, you can hold it. It won’t hurt.”

“You—you’re letting me _hold it?”_

“I trust you.”

It’s stronger than his declaration of love—because this is his _coat._ His link to the sea, his way of transforming. The thing that was stolen from him for years. Marinette feels like she’s being handed his beating heart instead.

Delicately, Marinette allows Adrien to drape the coat over her hands and arms. It feels strange to touch: like water running across her skin, except it doesn’t drip or make her hands wet. There’s a spark in it like static, and something else, too—something warm, _alive._

Doesn’t that make sense, though? She’s basically holding a part of Adrien.

The coat doesn’t quite have a color—it’s almost like water, in that it reflects the darkness of the night sky overhead. But there’s a gold current running through it, flashing like a coin at the bottom of a well; and when Marinette looks at the coat from her peripheral vision, it gleams with the brightness of a sunny day.

“It’s beautiful,” Marinette says, running her hand across the surface.

“Thanks,” Adrien says. “I mean, I—I didn’t really make it, but…”

Smiling, Marinette hands the coat back to Adrien, and he lets it pool on his lap. “Thank you for letting me see it.”

Adrien nods. He glances at her, then glances away—and then his eyes dart back to her face, and he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Marinette cradles the back of his neck and leans forward, finally pressing her lips against his.

Adrien melts against her, and Marinette stupidly wonders if he’s about to become water in her hands. But no—he’s warm and solid and alive, his lips pressed desperately to hers as if he’s famished and she’s feast.

One of his hands cups her cheek while another runs through her hair, and Marinette returns the gesture. Her fingers trail through the soft strands of his hair, down to his chest where his heart beats frantically beneath her fingertips. Adrien kisses more fervently in response, and Marinette haphazardly throws her arms around him. She needs to pull him closer, needs to touch him more.

At one point, she nearly falls off the rock, teetering on the edge—but Adrien pulls her to the center of the stone and gently lays her down, warm body pressed to hers as they kiss.

The stone is strangely warm and soft, and when Marinette runs her fingers across it, she realizes: that’s not stone. Adrien has spread his coat out beneath them, and it’s like he’s above her _and_ below her, all around, on her lips, her skin, in her lungs. _Adrien, Adrien, Adrien,_ her mind whispers, like that’s the only word it remembers, the only word it knows.

Panting, Adrien pulls back and hovers over her. His hair streams down from his face, tickling Marinette’s cheeks, and she smiles, lightly tugging on one of the strands. Adrien returns the smile, and one of his hands finds Marinette’s, their fingers interlaced against the warmth of his coat.

Neither one of them speaks for a while. There’s a different magic lingering in the air, now: one of opportunity, of desire, of _love,_ and it feels blasphemous to break it.

Adrien lowers himself onto the coat and lies down beside Marinette. The grin hasn’t disappeared from his face; he’s still staring at her like she’s some rare treasure.

Marinette nuzzles her cheek against the coat, her fingers playing with the golden strands of Adrien’s hair. “How did you get this back, anyway?” she murmurs. “The coat, I mean.”

“It’s a long story,” Adrien says. “I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Try me.”

“Well…” Adrien’s nose wrinkles, and Marinette can’t resist tapping it. He smiles, then says, “There are other creatures like selkies—ones that aren’t quite natural, and have powers of their own. I got help from one of those.”

Marinette leans closer. “What kind of creature?”

“A cat,” Adrien says, grinning. “See? This just proves that they’re the best animals.”

“Speaking of.” Marinette trails her finger down Adrien’s cheek, and he closes his eyes with a blissful expression. “We have another cat now. A big fluffy one named Plagg. He’s black, except for this—”

“White tuft of fur on his chest?” Adrien finishes, eyes flying open.

“Oh,” Marinette says. “Did you see him on top of the bank? He led me here earlier.”

As she says it, she realizes there’s something wrong with her words. She’d thought she’d been chasing him, but…

“Ah, yes,” Adrien says, humor edging his voice. “Just a cat who happened to lead you to the beach the exact night I showed up. That sounds entirely normal.”

“Wait,” Marinette says. “Are you saying Plagg is like you? Can he turn into a human?”

“I don’t think so,” Adrien says. “But that’s the name of the cat that helped me get my coat back. And he’s definitely got some sort of magic.”

Marinette groans and burrows against Adrien’s chest, pressing her face to his shirt. “You’re right. This is overwhelming.”

Adrien laughs and wraps an arm around her, pulling her tight against him. “Sorry. I did warn you.”

“I can handle it, though,” Marinette says. Her fingers curl into the sleeve of his sweater, and she tilts her head back to look up at Adrien. “I promise I won’t let our story be sad. I might not have any magic, but I’ll make sure of it.”

Adrien smiles down at her. “I believe that,” he says. “I think your determination is stronger than any sort of magic, Marinette.”

“Don’t make me blush,” Marinette grumbles, ducking her head again.

She feels Adrien kiss her forehead, sending a thrill of warmth through her veins. “I mean it,” he says. “And you’d better get used to it, because I plan to lavish you with compliments every chance I get.”

“Stop,” Marinette whines, hugging him more tightly.

Adrien only laughs, his voice mixing with the song of the sea around them.

The sea—the thing that gave Adrien to the world, all those years ago—and the thing that graciously returned him, when Marinette had given up on ever seeing him again.

“Thank you,” Marinette whispers. The water doesn’t have ears, but she thinks it might be able to hear her.

“Hm?” Adrien’s lips brush against her hair. “Did you say something?”

“No,” Marinette says, smiling to herself. “I’m just thinking.”

“Thinking what?”

“That I love the ocean.”

Adrien hums. “It’s not so bad, I guess.”

Water splashes against the stones, and there’s a question in the sound: a request, almost a plea.

 _I won’t take him away from you,_ Marinette promises.

For a moment, the water goes silent around them—and Marinette knows, in her soul, that it’s the sound of a blessing. 

**Author's Note:**

> Obligatory note about writing a character as nonbinary: not every nonbinary person looks super androgynous! In canon, though, Adrien pretty much is--after all, a lot of people who see fanart for the show think he's a girl--so I used that to avoid having Marinette assume his gender when they first meet.


End file.
